Hekmatyar the Compromise?

A couple days back, Pajhwok broke news of Hizb-e-Islami and Taliban battling each other in Maidan Wardak. The news, despite being very curious, went almost unnoticed. Even the usually attentive Af-Pak Channel at Foreign Policy had only line on it in their daily brief. But if some sources are to be believed, the news could give us a clue about Hekmatyar’s future. First, here is the Pajhwok piece:

The death toll from an ongoing clash between Taliban and Hezb-i-Islami Afghanistan (HIA) in central Maidan Wardak province increased to seven on Sunday when four more people were killed, a district chief said on Sunday.The clash that erupted between armed men loyal to two rival commanders, Mullah Zakhil of the Taliban and Azizullah of the HIA in Sadmardi area of Nirkh district on Saturday night was still ongoing, Mohammad Hanif Hanifi said. He added they had received reports of seven people killed and scores wounded in the firefight.Residents said the Taliban commander Zakhil was injured and some of his supporters were killed. More gunmen were joining opposition ranks and residents staying indoors, they said. There was no word from the anti-government groups about the clash.

On the one had, its natural to interpret this us as a clash of only local proportions where personal animosities between commander might be the cause and nothing ideological. However, if one Washington insider is to be believed, the news is a reflection of how Gulbuddin Hekmatyar, the Hizb e Islami leader, has broken away from the Taliban and might be reconciling with the government soon.

The news comes a day after the Pakistani Prime Minister visited Kabul to announce a joint Peace Commission between the two countries. The visit had particular importance because the Pakistani Army Chief of Staff General Kayani and the ISI Chief General Pasha both accompanied him on the trip. Moreover, the announcement of the joint commission was made by Gilani and Karzai only echoed it. Pakistan showed an enthusiasm for reconciliation that was unseen to date. In fact, this was their first resounding statement after a long period of hesitance.

Hekmatyar has always been a darling of Pakistan. One of the reasons why the civil war dragged so long during the 1990s was that Pakistan wanted to see Hekmatyar take the highest office in Afghanistan, which never materialized. If there is any connection between these two dots– the battle in Maidan and the visit by Pakistani delegation– then its a fair assumption that Hekmatyar might be the compromise that Pakistan has achieved. Pakistan has convinced the United States to bring Hekmatyar on board and he will be the safeguard to their interests in the future of the Afghanistan.

What throws off this assumption, though, is that Hekmatyar has never seemed to be a priority of Karzai’s government. In fact, his name barely comes up in the talks on reconciliation with the insurgency: southern Taliban have always the focus of his reconciliation efforts.  This lack of attention to Hekmatyar could be that Karzai does not believe he makes up that big a part in the insurgency. Or, another possibility, is that behind the silence there has always been talks with Hekmatyar through Pakistan that might be coming to fruition now. The number two in the Peace Council, Attaullah Ludin, is a Hizb e Islami. They have had talks with Hekmatyar’s representatives recently. And what was the location of their couple meetings with Hizb e Islami representatives? Surprise surprise: Islamabad.

Karzai’s Vission

Aljazeera recently aired an absolutely impressive program from Kabul. David Frost conducted a pair of interviews with General Petraeus and President Karzai that were absolutely fantastic, both for the standard of journalism and the skills of interviewing, but also for the warmth and humanity of the conversations. He gave the individuals tremendous room to breath, something that is lacking in today’s media.

Two important points raised by the General: A good majority of the Taliban they are fighting are “ten dollar a day Taliban.” Also, he emphasized that “what we do know is that very few of the Taliban leaders actually sit foot in the country.”

Frost raises an interesting question: Karzai’s father was murdered by the Taliban. How does that affect the negotiations when he sits down face to face with them? a wonderful answer by the president: “my father was only one of the thousands.” It really exemplifies the man’s optimism and his desire to see Afghanistan towards stability.
The president also emphasizes that he has no hopes for another term in office whatsoever.
Most interviews with Karzai are clouded with a tension of presumptions. Whether you agree with an individual or not, it’s nice to give him the space to explain himself.

The Non-violent Past of Pakistan’s Tribal Areas

Ghaffar Khan with Gandhi. (Image from: Peaceworkmagazine)

In the past few years, Pakistan’s North West passage has been in
the news for the wrong reasons. The Khyber Pakhtunkhwa (known as the North West Frontier Province until recently) and the Federally Administered Tribal Areas have progressively turned into the hub of extremism and lawlessness, and a training ground  for the Taliban. News of violence from the region makes the headlines on almost daily basis.

While the scope of the recent violence might tempt us to believe so, the Frontier wasn’t always like this. For an extended period in the
20th century, not only was the frontier extremely peaceful, but also at the forefronts of a non-violence movement in South Asia.  In fact, the history of this movement–what inspired its launch as well as what caused its demise–gives a good understanding as to why the Frontier has been the battleground of coercive activities that are mostly planned and orchestrated from more urban areas such as Karachi and Quetta.

The non-violence movement was started in 1929 by a man named Ghaffar Khan, who was passionate about ridding his people from traditions of quarrels and blood feuds. “Factions, feuds, and social evils were rife among Pathans…They were like smouldering embers, always ready to flare up,” Khan wrote in his autobiography years later. Once his movement was in full swing, he was acquainted with India’s Gandhi and integrated his followers into the national struggle of the then British-India for independence.

The history of the frontier region is one of underdevelopment due to repeated negligence and oppression. For a large part of the British rule in India, the frontier tribes were only seen as “the Gatekeepers of the Indian Empire.” As D.P.Singhal fittingly describes in his book India and Afghanistan: a Study of Diplomatic Relations 1876-1907, Britain’s imperial defense policy towards Russia was what dictated how the frontier region was dealt with. The British Army had a constant presence there and on more than two occasions it trampled over the region on its way to Afghanistan. In the face of such military presence, the locals saw their liberties get reduced over time with laws such as the Frontier Crimes Regulation, which advocated collective punishment. Instead of trying to reform, the British took the easier route of cracking down on the frontier. In fact, even Montagu-Chlemsford scheme of 1919-20, which outlined a relatively democratic structure of elections and local governance for provinces of India, did not arrive to the frontier region until ten years later.

From an early age, Ghaffar Khan was pained by the backwardness of his people and the unfavorable treatment by the British. In fact, his main grievance with the British throughout his life was their hesitation in introducing reform in his province. So, at age 20, he began the work himself. In 1910, he built the first school in his village, Utmanzai. He considered the building of schools the most urgent need because “I was well aware that the illiteracy and ignorance of my people could only lead them to ruin and destruction,” he wrote. The building of schools and the campaign for literacy was a first step in Khan preparing his people to rid their coercive traditions and embrace nonviolence as a way of life.  Mukulika Banerjee, an anthropologist who studied Khan and his movement by interviewing veterans, writes that Khan had put nearly twenty years of work “to raise the consciousness and understanding of his audience before calling on them to make sacrifices.” This had laid the ground for the later success of his movement.

The two decades of preparatory work consisted of building over seventy schools in the Frontier, establishing their own newspaper, touring villages to preach literacy, and organizing political rallies and processions to unify the frontier and place it again in the larger context of the region.

In 1929, Khan founded the Khudai Khidmatgar, which literally translates to Servants of God. The Khudai Khidmatgar movement became the means for the reform necessary to rid the Frontier from the violence that it was notorious for and march towards calm and prosperity.

At the heart of the Khudai Khidmatgar movement was service and nonviolence. In the pledge that every member had to take, the notion of service is wonderfully justified.  “I am a Khudai Khidmatgar, and as God needs no service, but serving his creations is serving Him, I promise to serve humanity in the name of God. I promise to refrain from violence and from taking revenge. I promise to forgive those who oppose me or treat me with cruelty. I promise to refrain from taking part in feuds and quarrels and from creating enmity.” There is a clear acknowledgement of the religiosity of the community in this pledge, yet the emphasis is on the universal human, working against certain extremist ideologies of his time. In fact, Ghaffar Khan’s struggle was as much against the dogmatic Mullahs as it was against the superstitious and cruel traditions that eroded the Pathans.

According to Banerjee, the movement grew from 1,000 to 25,000 within a year. At its peak, the movement was 100,000 strong.

For the next 18 years, until India’s independence, Ghaffar Khan and his Khudai Khidmatgar stayed firm to their nonviolence. His struggle, which began as a social reform movement, later integrated into the Indian independence struggle after he learned of Gandhi’s nonviolence. Shoulder to shoulder with Gandhi, they rallied against the British oppression. In fact, the Khudai Khidmatgar remained so firm on nonviolence that when Gandhi’s National Congress faltered from the ideal of nonviolence and announced its initial support for Britian in World War II in return for the promise of independence, Khan resigned from his cooperation with them. In his resignation letter, which Gandhi later exemplified as the kind of commitment needed for nonviolence, Khan wrote : “the nonviolence I have believed in and preached to my brethren of the Khudai Khidmatgar … affects all our lives, and only this permanent value. Unless we learn this lesson of non-violence fully, we shall never do away with the deadly feuds which have been the curse of the people of Frontier. Since we took on non-violence and the Khudai Khidmatgars pledged themselves to it, we have largely succeeded in ending these feuds.”

Despite the success achieved, Khan is quick to recognize its fragile state. Therefore, he is so firm on the principal and will not stray– even for the grand promise of independence.

Post independence, however, as Pakistan was split from India and the Frontier region fell under its jurisdiction, all the good work that Ghaffar Khan had done to reform the frontier was reversed. For his closeness to Gandhi and the Indian national congress, and his opposition to creation of Pakistan, he and his people were seen as traitors by the Pakistani government. The state assumed a policy of negligence and repression towards the frontier regions just like the British had, though for different motives. Later, the region was used as the nurturing ground for religious militants trained and indoctrinated to fight the Soviets in Afghanistan. The frontier, despite the struggles of people like Ghaffar Khan, remained underdeveloped, without a strong infrastructure, and vulnerable to attack of the beast that we know as extremism today.

The Legacy of a Warrior: Ahmad Shah Massoud

Massoud, a warrior who maintained his humanity. (Photograph by Reza Deghati)

“If there had never been a war,” he said, “I would have been a very good architect.”

Ahmad Shah Massoud, a renowned guerrilla fighter of his generation, left behind a mixed legacy after his death on September 9, 2001. A moderate amongst the leaders of jihad who grew extremer every day, few close to him would question the personal dignity of the commander.  His humanity remained intact despite being devoured by the beast of war for more than half of his life. However, what taints his legacy is the involvement of his men in the darkest period of Afghanistan’s history—or Kabul’s history, rather.

The period I speak of is the years between 1991 and 1996, when the government of Dr. Najib was toppled and the Mujahideen moved into Kabul. As their eminent victory over Najib’s government neared after the Soviets withdrew their military power, the Mujahideen grew progressively divided. At the heart of their disputes was the structure of the future government that would move into Kabul. How would the power be divided? And more importantly, who will move into the mouth-watering presidential palace?

As the various factions tightened the noose around Kabul, Najib offered to step down. His attempts to ensure a smooth transition did not reach anywhere for no one listens to the demands of a leader on verge of demise. The country was at the mercy of the handful jihadi leaders who bargained behind closed doors in Peshawer. Pakistani agents sat at the head of the table, trying to broker a deal.

Massoud himself did not have any ambitions of becoming president, that is one certainty of the matter.  He was a king-maker and his word carried a lot of weight, but he had never shown any desire for the seat. He repeatedly said that he had left the issue of leadership of the country to the elders. However, it was his rivalry with Gulbuddin Hikmatyar, a fellow engineering classmate in his younger days, that eventually turned Kabul into the bloodiest killing-ground.

The commanders had delayed an immediate entry into Kabul until a political agreement was reached by the different leaders in Pakistan. A sudden entry would bring chaos in the city, it was said. But Hikmatyar grew restless of the negotiations, and felt that nothing was being achieved. He wanted to move in immediately and claim the ultimate prize for the Mujahideen: the presidential palace. But there was no longer such a thing as the mujahideen. The language used was one of ahzab, or parties, factions. Hikmatyar’s entry meant a victory for his faction, not for all. And Massoud vehemently warned against such an entry. He tried to convince Hikmatyar that he should wait, pending the results of the negotiations in Peshawer. But Hekmatyar would have none of it. So Massoud declared that he would “defend the people of Kabul, the man, women, children, and elderly of Kabul.” And so began the darkest period in history.

For close to five years, until Taliban emerged from the South to rid them all and corner Massoud into Panjsher, Kabul burned in a hellish civil war. The small city was divided up into numerous kingdoms, with a throne on every street. Hikmatyar fired mortars from one end, Charasyab, and Massoud responded from the other, Koh e Telvision. In between, Kabul was looted, raped, and burned until it turned into a ghost-town.

The Legacy:

Any warrior, whether he likes it or not, will have blood on his hands. Massoud is no different. His image, as Afghans see it now, has splashes of blood over it. Whether he pierced his own dagger and drew that blood is questionable.  Did he have men under his command who caused tremendous bloodshed? That is a harsh certainty.

But Ahmad Shah Massoud stands out for one characteristic that many life-long warriors lose in the face of war: the ability to maintain a concerned, moderate, human heart. At every moment of his life, in every speech, in every gesture, Massoud gave the vibe that he had risen from the people, that his struggle was for the people, and that he was firm on the principles of his struggle.

Journalist Sebastian Junger, who visited Massoud for a National Geographic assignment, had this to say about Massoud’s undeniable charisma:

There was something about him – the slow nod of his head as he listened to a question, the exhaustion and curiosity engraved on his handsome, haggard face – that made it clear we were in the presence of an extraordinary man. I found it impossible not to listen to Massoud when he spoke, even though I didn’t understand a word. I watched everything he did, because I had the sense that somehow – in the way he poured his tea, in the way his hands carved the air as he talked – there was some secret to be learned.”

From what his friends and those close to him recall, one gets a sense that Massoud was a man  firm on upholding his principles at all times. In time of peace, that is an easy task. But when you are cornered into a ditch for years and your enemy threatens to destroy you every moment, it takes an extraordinary man to stay firm, to stay true, and to maintain a kind heart.

Little anecdotes help us put this picture of Massoud together. General Daoud Daoud, one of Massoud’s commanders and the recent Deputy Minister of Interior, shares this story:

We were in Kabul. A professor at Kabul university came to Massoud and complained that his daughter had been taken by the son of a commander. Massoud ordered Fahim [his intelligence chief at the time, the current Vice President of Afganistan] to return the girl to his father at any cost. In fact, Massoud said he would not eat until the girl was returned to his father. Fahim said that the case would get messy, it could ignite fighting. The boy’s father had lots of armed men. Massoud replied that the honor of the professor and his daughter was everything to him. She should be returned at any cost.

Dr. Mehdi, one of Massoud’s advisers and current politician, remembers this anecdote:

I joined Massoud at a gathering in Takhar. My entry into the room had interrupted his conversation  with one of his commanders. After greeting me, he turned to the commander and asked him to please continue.

“Yes sir,” the commander continued, “so I left with eight of my men. They have Kalashnikovs and I have a kalakov.  We arrived there at dawn. Our guide showed us to a place where deer grazed. There were two ways that the deer could escape and my men blocked both ends. When it turned light, the deer that had been grazing got scared of us and started running. Since both escape routs were blocked, they had no option but to come towards me. And I started in the name of God. I fired three rounds. When I finished, my men came and gathered the deer. I had shot 28 of them. The rest that were injured ran away. They might have fallen later, but we did not follow after them. 28 was more than enough for us. I brought ten home and give away the rest, to my men and the villagers.”

The gathering remained silent. Massoud took a long look at the commander. Then, he brought his hand to his forehead and lowered his head in silence. All eyes were fixed on him as to how he would react. He turned to the commander and said:

“What a pity. You are mujahid, a haji who has gone to pilgrimage, and a sufi. You killed God’s creatures, you ended a generation of them. Don’t you think in Islam, hunting has its limits? And that excess is a sin?”

Later, Massoud refused to have a bite of the deer meat they had brought him as a delicacy.

And a final anecdote from Mir Dad, one of his commanders:

I served as the commander for the Commando Battalion.  Once, Chief of Staff of the Pakistani Army invited Massoud for a meeting, which he accepted. With a few commando soldiers and couple horses, we left for the headquarters in Badakhshan. The  journey was long, so Massoud repeatedly offered his horse to one of the soldiers. “You are tired, come ride my horse,” he said. The soldier refused. Massoud got off the horse and started walking. He left the horse behind for the soldier. He asked me to have the rest soldiers take turns on the other horses…

Massoud, on many times, reminisced about his student days. The man had gone through a lot, but he still remembered his days at the lyce Istiqlal as the best days of his life, where he played soccer and prepared to join the engineering faculty at Kabul Polytechnic. His first two years of university, too, he recalled with nostalgia. He had been very focused on his studies, very excited about becoming an architect. But the communist revolution in Afghanistan changed everything for him, turning him into a life-long warrior.

One only wonders how good an architect Massoud would have become had there been no war.

This is the second and final part of a two-part serines on Massoud and his legacy.

Pakistan: A Sorry State

Shiite Muslims attacked in Pakistan. (Mohsin Raza / Reuters-- Through Time.com)

Pakistan has been in serious trouble. Ever since President Zardari replaced Parvez Musharaf in September 2008, the situation has only deteriorated. This summer, especially, the young nation has gone through tremendous pain. And if the two recent bloody attacks are any indication, there is more bad news to come out of there.

In the past three days, two bloody suicide attacks targeted Shiite Muslims in two different cities. The first attack, in the city of Lahore, killed 25 people and wounded at least 200. The second, only two days later, killed 53 and wounded over 150 in the southern city of Quetta.

Quetta remained under police lock down today as the families proceeded with the funerals.

The increase in violence comes at a time when Pakistan is already suffering from the worst flooding its history. The country’s leading newspaper, Dawn, summarized the devastation caused by the floods:

The massive floods that began to hit Pakistan in late July have afflicted the country extremely. Seventy-nine of the country’s124 districts (24 in Khyber Pukhtunkhwa, 19 in Sindh, 12 in Punjab, 10 in Balochistan and seven each in Azad Kashmir and Gilgit-Baltistan) have been affected. Official estimates say 1,600 people have been killed and more than 17 million are affected by the catastrophe. The disaster has not only led to losses in terms of human casualties and large scale displacement but has also damaged the agricultural country’s major crops over an estimated area of more than 1.38 million acres which constitutes 30 per cent of Pakistan’s agricultural land.

The response to the natural disaster and the recent violence has only further highlighted the incompetence of the Pakistani government that faces progressively difficult challenges. Waqar Gillani wrote in New York Times:

The unrest and anger set off by the attacks seemed to underline Pakistan’s flagging support for local and national governments, which are struggling to cope with rising militant violence and the aftermath of the worst flooding in the country’s history.

As the news of floods started hitting headlines, President Zardari was nowhere to be seen. He, with his children on his side, had decided to continue on with a trip to Europe despite the gravity of the situation at home. This angered Pakistanis who were losing patience with Zardari already. Ikram Sehgal, a defense and political analyst, told the New York Times:

“I think he [President Zardari] is in serious trouble. It was extremely insensitive of him to leave the country. It has gone down very badly and has left the country shaken.”

Can Zardari Face Up to the Challenges?

Ever since President Zardari took office after a tremendously confusing and bizarre turn of events, the troubles of Pakistan have escalated. The militancy, especially, has spiraled out of control. Pakistanis have suffered in the past year through the cowardly act of suicide bombs almost on daily basis.

In the face of all this, President Zardari has flashed his smile of helplessness.

General Musharraf, it is well known by now, was impeding the progress in war on terror. It has been argued that as long as Musharaf was in power, the Taliban insurgency in Afghanistan would not deter because he was doing business with both sides, the US and the Taliban. But as the situation in Pakistan exasperates dramatically, a sense of nostalgia for Musharaf days is growing there. While Musharaf was not a help in the war against terror, at least he had a tight grip over the Pakistani Army and by extension over the country. Mr. Zardari, it becomes more obvious every day, is struggling to control the country. And his civilian government has not been able to impose its agenda on Ashfaq Kayani’s army. Pakistan, increasingly, is turning into a dangerous state vulnerable in the face of a growing militancy.

In the wake of the two recent attacks, Mr. Zardari’s government faces its most difficult challenge so far: the scare of full-fledged sectarian violence.  The Sunnis and Shiites have had a troubled history in Pakistan, often falling for skirmishes with each other. But as the Shiites find the Pakistani Taliban also siding with Sunnis and carrying out bloody attacks against them, one cannot rule out the dramatic increase in sectarian violence. Even Zardari’s own Interior Minister, Rehman Malik, seems fearful of it, as Dawn reports :

“Sectarianism that has been there for 62 years (since the creation of Pakistan), they [militants who carried out the recent attacks] stoked it again,” he told reporters in Islamabad. Malik said the TTP, al-Qaeda and the Lashkar-i-Jhangvi (LJ), one of the most violent anti-Shia groups with roots in the central Punjab province, were all part of the same organisation.

“Lashkar-i-Jhangvi, al-Qaeda, TTP; they are one,” he said.

“And the TTP are there whenever there is suicide bombing.”

If sectarian violence breaks out across the country, I doubt that Mr. Zardari and his government can be any help in tackling it.